One of these Mornings
by Miral
Summary: Niall asks Eric to find his great grand-daughter, Sookie. Sookie, trying to silence the voices in her head, has become addicted to heroin. During his search, Eric realizes he's not the only one looking for the girl...and time is running out. AU
1. The Final Night

**Story Disclaimer: **Characters and setting belong to Charlaine Harris.

**Thanks:** My wonderful beta, sassyvampmama.

**Thanks: **Northman Maille and Northwoman. Long after I Write the Songs, songs are still playing the muse.

**Inspiration: **Moby's "One of these Mornings." 1944 film, "Laura."

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**The Final Night**

Arriving at the fourth floor landing, he sees the source of the strangled sobs that could be heard from downstairs. A female Were with short dark hair and a swollen, tear-streaked face. Eric immediately identifies the girl as the roommate from the previous night, Maria-Starr. Her eyes open wide when she sees him, and she slinks away from him, pushing herself as far into the wall as possible.

As Eric walks to the open apartment door, all the noise, the smells, the throbbing vibrations fall away.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

So faint, so failing. Only he can hear it.

The dark-haired girl, gasping for breath, makes a move to pass him. He stops her.

"I can help her. Invite me in," he commands her. Unable to see past her tears, she mumbles, "You can come in." She squeezes past him and darts down the stairs. He turns briefly to watch her as she runs away.

Taking a step inside the small apartment's hallway, he is immediately hit with the smell.

Death.

Making his way into the living room, he sees her. She is lying on a stain-covered mattress in a corner of the room.

Silence. The low, yet comforting thumping of a moment ago now stilled.

Behind him, neighbors, alerted by Maria-Starr's screaming, arrive to observe the excitement of the day. Dismissing their disgusting display, Eric regards their intrusion upon the scene like so many vultures descending to enjoy the tearing apart of flesh. Ignoring them, Eric only has eyes for the girl.

Covering the distance between them, he gathers her small broken form in his arms and sits with her on the sofa. Although he detected a spark of life when he stood at the door, now there is nothing. The girl herself confirms his diagnosis, her blue eyes staring unseeing into his own.

Looking at her, he takes note of what wasn't revealed in the small snapshot stolen from the wall of the shifter's bar. The color of her hair is not just blonde, but a shade that nearly matches his own. The now vacant eyes are blue, but not just any blue, a radiant blue. The lovely contours of her body that lead one to smoothness, softness, and bounty. Most of all, he imprints in his memory the smell of her sun-kissed flesh; a sun-kissed flesh that reflects tales of the sun and the daytime sky.

A vampire, all Eric knows is death. All he has known for a thousand years is death. But this is different. This death wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to prevent this. He had failed. He had failed Niall's request. He had failed the girl.

He couldn't quite say how but he knew too, without question, that he had failed himself.

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**AN:** Please R/R.


	2. The First Night

**Story Disclaimer**: Characters and setting belong to Charlaine Harris.

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**The First Night**

The Sheriff of Area Five entered his office to see his child and business partner, Pam, sitting at his desk. Working on a laptop, she nodded at her maker's return.

"What did the fairy want?" Pam glanced up at her maker briefly before turning her attention back to her bookkeeping program. Despite an existence that spanned centuries and the knowledge that, barring something stupid happening, would continue for centuries more, Pam's voice held more than a hint of impatience.

Eric, uncharacteristically weary, removed his leather jacket and placed it on a hook on the back of the office door. Throwing himself onto his black leather couch, he made a sound that almost sounded like a human sigh. The odd behavior caught Pam's attention and she jerked her head up to look at him.

"That good?" she asked.

"The fairy wants me to find his great-granddaughter."

Puzzled, Pam arched an eyebrow. "That doesn't make sense, Eric. You cannot go to Faery."

Eric nodded. "The girl is here. In Area Five. This is where she grew up."

"She is part-human?"

"Yes, mostly human. She's one-eighth Fae."

Pam frowned. "One-eighth. That hardly seems sufficient to have a blood tie. What does Niall want with her?"

Eric focused his gaze on his child. "What can I say, Pam? He has either defeated or exhausted the patience of all his other kin. Perhaps one day yet he will find the followers he so craves. What do humans say? 'Hope springs eternal.' "

Finished with her work, Pam shut the laptop and stood. "Well, shall I send in Ginger?"

Eric rubbed his temple in a disturbingly human manner. As he was obviously deep in thought, Pam refrained from speaking further until he replied.

"No," he shook his head. "It is still early enough that I can begin my investigation tonight."

"Where are you going? Do you need me?"

"No. Stay here. Keep an eye on," he paused, "things."

"Long Shadow."

Eric grimaced. "We don't know."

Pam rolled her eyes. "Yes, Eric. Of course, it could be one of us. How could I forget?"

Eric shrugged. He did not want to discuss that matter right then. "I'll be in Bon Temps."

Pam made a face. "Good luck with that."

Eric nodded and was gone.

A little over an hour later Eric strode into what he knew to be a shifter-owned bar. Glancing around, he quickly spotted the shifter behind the bar. Seeing a wall of photographs behind the shifter, Eric thought, _bingo_. Sensing his presence—

_Bloodhound perhaps,_ Eric joked to himself—the shifter met his eyes. Eric nodded civilly and took a seat at one of the empty booths. Pegging the owner for a nervous sort, Eric figured Fido would be taking his order himself. 3...2...1...

"Hey," the shifter nodded. "Get you a True Blood?"

"Yes," Eric replied. "Please," he added to be polite.

"Just so we're clear, I don't want any trouble."

"Understood," Eric nodded. "_Shifter_."

The shifter's jaw hardened. "True Blood coming right up."

A few moments later, Eric sat drinking his blood and surveyed the establishment's human customers as they ate and drank. More than a few sets of eyes were fixed on him. He shrugged, allowing his blond tresses to flow along his back. The shifter, Eric knew, would never reveal the information he sought. Noticing a cheaply made-up redhead ogling him, Eric stared at her, pulling her to him.

Feeling the tugs of his glamour like so many tendrils tying themselves around her body, the woman hurriedly finished with her customers and made a beeline for Eric's booth.

"Hi, there," she drawled huskily. "New in town, are you?"

Deciding to dispense with niceties, Eric pierced her consciousness. "What is your name?"

"Arlene," she answered with a blank smile.

"Arlene, I'm looking for a friend who used to work here. Her name is Sookie. Did you know her, Arlene?"

"Sookie Stackhouse? Aw, sure, everybody knows Sookie. Sweetest girl you ever did find. Babysat my kids a bunch of times. She always had a smile on her face and she was forever looking out for strays."

"Do you know where I can find her?"

"Uh, no," the woman shook her red curls thoughtfully. "She only worked here like a year. That was three years ago."

"Do you have a photo of her I could have?"

"I don't know about that," Arlene demurred.

Eric could tell his new friend Arlene had a photograph. "Arlene, bring me the photo."

"Sure, of course."

Eric chuckled grimly to himself. So weak-minded, he barely exercised his glamour to bend her will. A few minutes later Arlene rejoined him with the photo. It was Arlene, a slight dark-haired girl, and a buxom blonde. Eric realized he didn't know which one was Sookie.

"Who is the other girl?"

"The one in the middle is Sookie's cousin, Hadley."

The buxom blonde then was his bounty. _Beautiful_, he thought.

"Do you know where Sookie is?"

"Uh, I don't know where either of them is. I doubt their own poor grandma even knows."

The fairy had filled Eric in on some of the family tree. "Adele Stackhouse?"

"Yeah, poor woman. Lost both her kids way too young and her two granddaughters fallen to drugs."

Eric raised an eyebrow in surprise at that piece of information. "_Both_ granddaughters?"

"Oh, yeah," Arlene nodded her head vehemently. Despite the endless stream of grim news the woman was sharing, Eric was almost prompted to laugh at the enthusiasm with which Arlene responded to glamour. "Hadley was always into trouble. Drugs. Gambling. Bad consorts. Finally she pulled Sook down with her. Poor Sook, what with her disability and all."

"Disability?" Niall had said nothing about a disability.

"Oh, the thing with her head."

"Tell me about Sookie's disability, Arlene." Noticing the shifter staring intently from behind the bar, Eric added to his directive. "Quickly and concisely."

"She can read minds."

Eric's eyes widened in surprise. "A telepath?" he muttered quietly. Standing, he dropped three twenty-dollar bills on the table before bending down to look into Arlene's eyes. "Thank you, Arlene. If anyone asks, we had a delightful conversation about your intention to dye your hair pink. I advised you against it. You remember nothing about our discussion regarding Sookie. You brought the photo home."

"Yes, sir."

Eric smiled. How delightfully compliant.

"Arlene," the shifter returned. "I told you I'd handle this table."

"Sam," Arlene turned to her boss with an exasperated sigh, "We were just talking about my hair."

Eric had to bite back a laugh at the look on the shifter's face.

"_What_?"

Eric rose to his 6'4" stature. "I'll be on my way, shifter." Eric said quietly as he moved past Sam. "Nice place. You should stop by Fangtasia." Eric smiled wryly. "We think of it as the bar with a bite."

"Uh-huh," Sam nodded. "I'll be sure to check it out. Shreveport, right?"

"Yes. Industrial Drive."

Without a backwards glance, Eric left. He bit back another snort of laughter as he walked out the door and overheard Arlene tell Sam how he had been advising her against dying her hair pink. To which the shifter had replied, with considerable irritation, "What the_ hell, _Arlene?"

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**AN: Please R/R. **


	3. The Second Night

******Story Disclaimer**: Characters and setting belong to Charlaine Harris.

**AN: **Thank you for reviews and alerts.

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**The Second Night**

The next night, as soon as he was able to, Eric set out for Bon Temps. The fairy had told him the location of Adele Stackhouse's home. The vampire realized, with amusement, it was only a few miles from the shifter's bar.

As he turned onto the desolate driveway, Eric glanced at his dashboard clock. He frowned in annoyance when he saw that it was already half past nine. The call on the grandmother would likely be the only one of the evening. Unsavory humans at the bar had delayed his departure, while unexpected road traffic had hindered his arrival. Though flying would have cut his travel time considerably, he often drove out of convention and out of a desire to keep his gift hidden from humans.

Once he was about ten yards from the house, Eric turned off the car engine. Extricating himself from his Corvette, he quickly covered the remaining length of the driveway and made his way up the porch steps.

His evening attire—slacks, a collared shirt and a dress jacket—was more formal than was typical for him. Pam had advised him he might as well dress the part of upstanding friend if he were hoping to secure Adele Stackhouse's cooperation without the use of glamour.

Ringing the doorbell, he waited. After a few moments, an elderly woman came to the door. Pulling open the storm door, she left the screen door in place.

"Well, how-de-do," she greeted him. The woman, in her 70s, wore her thick white hair swept up in a bun. Physically frail, Eric could see both strength and intelligence in her eyes.

"Hello, Mrs. Stackhouse," Eric smiled.

Adele pushed the screen door open about halfway, but did not step out onto the porch.

"Hello, young man." Eric smiled wryly to himself at her miscalculation of his age. There were not many older than he roaming the earth. "You have me at a disadvantage." Switching the porch light on, she peered at him. "I'm afraid I don't know you."

The fairy, aside from one directive, was cryptic in his guidance on how to handle this human. Eric would try not to glamour her—per the fairy's wishes.

"My name is Eric Northman. Your children's grandfather asked me to do him a favor." Eric paused, waiting to see what kind of reaction his words would elicit.

"Oh," she said with surprise. "_You mean_—?"

"Niall Brigant."

Adele sighed. Studying Eric's face, she realized something. "You're a vampire."

"Yes."

"He asked _you_ to do him a favor?" Her voice sounded doubtful.

Eric looked at Adele with new appreciation. Apparently this elderly human woman held some understanding of the supernatural power structure.

"We've known each other a long time," Eric explained.

"Oh? How long?"

"I'm not as young as I appear Mrs. Stackhouse," replied Eric with a slight smile.

Realizing belatedly her inquiry was possibly rude or even intrusive, Adele was immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I shouldn't pry."

Unexpectedly, Eric found himself willing to share details of his life with the woman. "I...was what is now known as a Viking."

The elderly woman's eyes opened wide in astonishment. "Oh!" she replied. "That's…_fascinating_."

Eric smiled faintly. "Yes, well." He momentarily cast his gaze to a distant tree before bringing his attention back to Adele. "It was a long time ago. I've lived many lives since then."

Only the woman's breath could be heard in the stillness of night. Watching her, Eric waited patiently as Adele internally debated whether or not to allow him into her home. Just as he was resigning himself to the need for glamour, Adele surprised him.

"Mr. Northman," she said as she pushed the screen door open. "Won't you please come in?" she asked.

Pleased by the invitation, Eric marveled silently at his good fortune. "Thank you, Mrs. Stackhouse."

Shortly thereafter, the two sat facing one another in Adele's cozy living room. Eric was seated on the well-worn couch, Adele on her comfortable old recliner.

"So, Mr. Northman— "

"Call me Eric, please."

"Then you call me Adele. It seems I'm the youngster here, after all."

Eric grinned. "Apparently so."

"Well, Eric, what's this all about?"

Eric continued to smile. He appreciated the woman's forthright nature. "Niall wants me to find his great-granddaughter."

"Which one?"

"Sookie."

Eric watched with curiosity as the woman's eyes, so open and unguarded, filled with pain. He imagined that it was a pain normally stored deep within her. Such displays were used as a gauge in distinguishing the age of his kind. Although the ability to mask one's emotions was among the first evolutionary traits acquired by newly turned vampires, it took time to perfect.

"He knows her...uh...situation?" Adele reached into the pocket of her housedress searching for a tissue.

"No, Adele," Eric shook his head. "He knows only that she is…" he allowed his words to drop off. Glancing around the room, his eyes were drawn to a wall of family photographs. "He knows only that she is not here," he finished simply. Rising from his spot on the couch, Eric walked to the photographs. Such an odd concept for him to even attempt to conceive: family photographs.

"Do _you_ know her situation?"

Staring at photographs of Sookie from her childhood as well as from the more recent past, Eric was once more startled by her beauty. Looking closely at photos of the girl as she aged from child to adolescent to adult, he noted for the first time the haunted look in her eyes.

_Les yeux sont le miroir de l'dme_, he thought.

Eric figured the origin of that pain was easily identifiable. Hearing the thoughts of the universe could not be an easy cross to bear. It would be one thing to hold such a gift among his kind, or among other supernatural creatures, but here in this Louisiana backwater? The girl was likely regarded as a leper.

"Ah," Eric hesitated, still looking at the photographs. Did he want to reveal something upsetting to the girl's elderly relative? "Only that she fell in with the wrong crowd." Adele snorted at that, causing Eric to turn sharply to look at her.

"Wrong crowd was her own cousin!" Adele shook her head. "My two granddaughters are different as could be. Sookie is sweet, gentle, and always ready to help out," Adele wiped a tear from her cheek. "Make no mistake, though. That girl's a fierce one; always was. Her...ah...gift," Adele met Eric's gaze questioningly. "You know about that?"

He nodded, holding the woman's eyes. "I've heard things."

"Well, it made it hard for her growing up. She never knew if she knew something because someone said it out loud, or if it was something that someone just thought in their head. She'd try to tune it out and plaster this big smile on her face and pretend she wasn't hearing all the horrible things she was hearing. They all just called her crazy. Folks here," Adele shook her head sadly, "don't understand. Even her own mother was afraid of the girl."

As Adele continued to speak, Eric gained new insight into the part-fairy telepathic barmaid born in a backwater Louisiana town. While it was rare that he found himself confronted with human emotions, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the pain this girl had to have suffered. Humans could be so cruel, so shortsighted. Their own level of tolerance extended more to vampires such as himself—beings they could deify and worship like celebrities—rather than to members of their own species who were in some way different.

"Adele, do you have any idea as to where Sookie might be?" Eric crossed the living room and sat back down on the couch.

"Ah, well. Hadley ran off to New Orleans about seven months ago. At least she sent me a postcard from there about seven months ago and I haven't heard anything since. So I assume she's still there. Before that, the two girls were sharing an apartment in Shreveport."

"Do you know where?"

"I don't know, Eric. My grandson, Jason, Sookie's brother, might know."

"Does she have any friends? Is there anyone who might know where she is?"

"Only one I can think of is Tara. They were close when they were younger, but it's hard to be friends with a drug addict." Suddenly Adele's composure broke and tears began to stream down her face.

Eric, leaning forward, awkwardly patted the woman's hand. Tears made him uncomfortable. Even when, as in this instance, he understood their cause.

Bemused by his own uncharacteristic response, Eric found himself wanting to set this elderly woman's heart at ease. She obviously had only a few years remaining. To Eric, the transformation from matriarch of the good-looking family depicted on the wall to the lonely old woman who sat before him spoke volumes. For her sake, as well as for the girl herself, he wanted to find Sookie.

With a new sense of purpose—one born of his own desire to see a resolution to this unfortunate situation, not simply out of obligation for a favor long forgotten—Eric vowed to see this thing through.

_Les yeux sont le miroir de l'dme_ ~ eyes are the mirror of the soul

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**AN: Please R/R.**


	4. The Third Night, Early

******Story Disclaimer**: Characters and setting belong to Charlaine Harris.

**AN: **Thank you for the reviews and alerts. Eric is not Superman. He does not fly backwards around the earth. The beginning _is_ the ending.

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**The Third Night, Early**

The following night Eric once again made his way to Bon Temps. This time he had two destinations. Adele Stackhouse had successfully cajoled both the brother and Sookie's friend, Tara, into agreeing to speak with him. His first interview was with the friend, Tara.

Finding her home with little problem, Eric parked in front of her small, nondescript house. Bounding up the porch steps, he rang the doorbell. From within he could hear the sound of shuffling and the low murmur of voices as a man and a woman argued in heated whispers whether the girl's meeting with a vampire was a good idea. Finally the door opened. Rather than invite Eric inside, the woman remained solidly behind the latched screen door. Her half-hearted attempt at a smile amounted to little more than a grimace.

"Tara Thornton," Eric nodded evenly. The woman's fear was pungent. He could almost taste it.

"Yes," she nodded back.

"Adele Stackhouse informed you of the nature of my call."

Suspicion was deeply etched in the woman's face. "She said you were helping her look for Sookie," Tara replied cautiously.

"That's correct."

"Why?"

Eric did not reply immediately, instead taking a moment to consider the most judicious response. The woman's reluctance to get involved was obvious. While he was not eager to share information with her, nor did he want to glamour her. For one thing, it would be going against the fairy's wishes. Also, since the Great Revelation, Eric had been trying to limit his use of glamour and live—_to the extent was possible_—within the confines of human law. While he hadn't given a second thought to glamouring the vacuous barmaid—unglamoured conversation with her would have been tedious—he was hesitant to glamour the friend Adele Stackhouse had secured his introduction to. As for why that mattered, Eric couldn't say. After so many years with little human _involvement_, his desire to help the elderly woman was a mystery—even to himself.

"I know an old friend of Adele's. He asked me to assist Adele in finding her grand-daughter, since I live in the area."

Tara seemed to ponder this information. Staring into space, she weighed the options that lay before her. Not wanting to rush and scare the skittish creature—Eric knew she would retreat into her house the second her discomfort grew—he stood patiently awaiting her decision. Finally she spoke.

"Well, I don't know what I can tell you really," she shrugged. "Sookie's kind of... _gone_ to us."

_Gone... _It wasn't lost on Eric the fact that everyone said basically the same thing. "Do you know where she lives?"

Wearing a look of uncertainty, Tara bit her lower lip. "She's in Shreveport somewhere."

_It should be easy enough to find her then_, thought Eric. "How about where she works?"

Tara, shuddering, shook her head. "I don't know what she's doing for money." The girl closed her eyes. "I don't want to think of it, honestly. She can't be living in a good area. That's for certain."

Well acquainted with the world's seediest of underbellies, Eric was mildly surprised to realize the girl's friend obviously feared she was prostituting herself. Sardonically acknowledging to himself that that was, in fact, not only a possibility but, in all likelihood, the reality of the situation, Eric wondered only that it hadn't occurred to him before.

"When and where did you see her last?"

Appearing as much as though she were trying to forget as she were trying to remember, Tara briefly closed her eyes. "I saw her a few months ago. She was going into a bar in Shreveport. Hair of the Dog."

_Interesting. The Were bar…_

Eric wondered if the Stackhouse girl knew her lineage. Niall had not indicated. But then again, the fairy had not disclosed the telepathy or the drug addiction. Eric had to concede that it was possible—unlikely, but possible—that Niall didn't know about the girl's telepathy or addiction. The grandmother obviously knew the girl's heritage, but hadn't said whether or not others—including the girl herself— were aware.

Eric was curious as to how knowledge of the girl's addiction might influence Niall's interest her. While fiercely loyal to family, fairies were also unrepentantly mercurial. Perhaps Niall had chosen the girl for some purpose based on a incorrect estimation of her character. He might reconsider and turn his back on the girl. If she were spending time with Weres, there was a good chance they knew of her ability and were putting it to use.

It occurred to Eric for not the first time in the past couple of days that having a telepath at his disposal would more easily enable him to live within the confines of human law. Dismissing the idea for later consideration, he refocused his attention on Tara.

"Were you at this bar?"

"Oh no," Tara shook her head. "I was on my way someplace else. I spotted her out in front and pulled my car over to say hello."

"How was she?"

"The same as she always is," Tara shrugged. "High."

Eric, curious about Sookie's addiction, decided to ask her friend about it. "Do you know _why_ your friend seeks to escape the way she does?"

"You mean why she does it?" She took a breath. "Do you know about the mind-reading thing?" The girl asked with a sad smile.

Eric was surprised by the girl's candidness. He concluded she was either overly trusting or an idiot or a bit of both. "Yes," he replied.

"Well, I know about it. A few others know about it, too. The people who love her don't care but she could never find peace with it. A lot of folks just think she's crazy. She got made fun of a lot when we were kids; my heart would ache for her. Her own mother..." Tara's voice cracked and she paused. "Her own mother thought there was something evil about her." The girl paused to take another breath. "I never said this aloud, but I think her parents getting killed and Adele taking charge of them was probably a good thing. That woman is a saint and a pillar. I figured she'd get Sookie to be okay." Starting to break down, the girl wiped the tears from her face.

Eric, though disgusted, was not surprised by the ways in which the humans around the girl had failed her. If there was one thing Eric had learned over the course of his existence, it was that one could never underestimate the callousness nor the selfishness of humans. "Is there anyone else you can think of who might know where she is?"

"Her cousin, Hadley..." answered Tara. "But Hadley moved down to New Orleans. I don't know how to reach her. Sookie mentioned she was dating a woman, a business woman, down there."

Frowning, Eric nodded. Perhaps he could ask the Queen if she knew the cousin. Watching Tara, Eric couldn't help but recognize that the friend, as frightened as she was, had been very forthcoming. His curiosity piqued, the vampire decided to ask her his remaining question, even though its answer was unlikely to help him find his bounty.

"Did Sookie ever explain to you why?" It wasn't very clear, even to his own ears, what he was asking. To give the girl credit, she understood.

Tara, sniffling, used the back of her hand to wipe her cheeks. Pensive, she appeared to mull over his question. At last she answered.

"I think—and keep in mind that I've never tried it myself, but I did read about it and I asked her about it during one of her lucid times. I think the heroin mutes everything. So the outside thoughts don't matter as much. She said everything just kind of blends together."

Eric, nodding silently at her words, realized he had no further questions.

"Thank you, Miss Thornton." Eric tucked a business card under the lip of the door's window screen and turned to make his way down the steps. Before he had made it to the second step, a voice stopped him.

"Wait!"

Eric heard the squeak of the ancient screen door opening. He turned around to look at Tara who now leaned forward over the porch floor.

"You're not gonna hurt her?"

Eric shook his head. "My search is predicated only on the benevolent interest of an old acquaintance to find this girl," _and do what?_ "and restore her to her grandmother. Possibly offer assistance with a facility…" There had been no discussion of anything of the sort, of course. Eric knew Niall could afford such a facility. If the fairy weren't interested, he decided that he would do it himself. The investment would be worth it.

"You mean a rehab facility?"

"Yes," Eric nodded grimly.

Tara smiled wanly. "Well, I don't know who this old friend of Adele's is, but thank him for me. I just..." her voice broke. "I just hope it's not too late."

Eric nodded again and made his way to his car.

Once settled in his Corvette, Eric found himself again pondering the dilemma of the missing girl. The girl, already extraordinary by the nature of her birthright, made more special by her gift of telepathy. This girl who seemed to have been cared for and regarded as special by those closest to her, yet even they could not give her the comfort she craved.

_The lack of acceptance among her own kind rendered her situation little better than ours_, Eric mused. _At least we could retreat unto ourselves. She had no such recourse. _

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**AN: Please R/R.**


	5. The Third Night, Later

******Story Disclaimer**: Characters and setting belong to Charlaine Harris.

**AN: **Thank you for the reviews and alerts. Again, no unicorns and rainbows.

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**The Third Night, Later**

A short while later Eric found himself standing outside a compact ranch-style home in a secluded wooded area. He knew from Pam's research that the house had been left to Sookie and her brother Jason following their parents' deaths, but he also knew that the girl hadn't lived in the house since she was seven.

Eric approached the front door and knocked. It was promptly opened by a young man with dirty blonde hair and a decided resemblance to the subject of his search.

"Jason Stackhouse?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," the man nodded.

"I am Eric Northman.

The man stood on the inside of his doorway and made no effort to invite the vampire inside. Eric noted the man's body language with amusement: Mr. Stackhouse appeared to feel a pang of guilt at his own lack of hospitality.

"Um, you understand if I don't invite you in, right? You can never be too careful, you know," said Jason, emphasizing his words with a nod.

Bemused at the irony that the man sought his agreement in the assessment that one ought to be careful of strangers, Eric nodded blandly. Maintaining a respectable distance from the man, Eric stood at a point midway between the open doorway and the edge of the porch.

"Your grandmother told you the reason for my visit?"

Jason, eyes wide, nodded, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, I know what she told me." He let out a breath. "I still don't get it. And I'm pretty sure I don't like it. That's for damn sure."

Though he couldn't fault the man for taking a protective stance regarding his sister, Eric was not in the mood for further wrangling for information. He toyed with the idea of just glamouring Jason to get it over and done with. Although he preferred to keep his own, personal business dealings free of glamour, he had no direct business with Jason Stackhouse. He was merely meeting with the man at the behest of an acquaintance. Recalling that acquaintance's instructions—as well as that acquaintance's magic—Eric decided to hold off on using glamour for the moment.

"Jason," Eric attempted to sound firm, yet reasonable and non-threatening. It was the tone he employed routinely in his business dealings with humans. "I have spoken to your grandmother. She knows the person who sent me to be a friend of your family—"

"Why don't I know this person?" Jason interrupted.

Pausing, Eric considered the question. "I cannot explain your family tree," he finally replied quietly. "All I can tell you is that there is someone, an acquaintance of mine, who is a friend of your family. This individual is greatly concerned about your sister and I have been asked to locate her and restore her to your grandmother."

"You're bringing her home?"

"That's the idea," Eric replied.

"Uh, I didn't realize that," Jason ran his fingers through his hair a second time. _A nervous habit, apparently_. "Gran only said to cooperate with you and that you were trying to find her. She didn't say nothing about her coming home."

Eric shrugged. "Perhaps she was being superstitious about raising any false hopes." Eric didn't fully understand the motivations prompting Adele's actions. By all rights, she could've refused to cooperate with him the first night, but she hadn't. He could only surmise that the woman, not being a fool, knew he could glamour her to force her cooperation. So she determined that willing cooperation would be in her best interests. Alternatively, perhaps the woman was so desperate for her granddaughter to come home, she was willing to do anything or cooperate with anyone to make it happen.

Ultimately the reason why didn't matter to Eric.

"So," Jason's voice pulled the vampire from his ruminations. "I'm not real sure how much help I can be to you all anyway. I haven't seen hide nor hair of Sook in months. Our cousin Hadley's the one you should talk to."

"Do you know how to find Hadley?"

"Nope. Can't say I do. I know she spends her time in the French Quarter. I know she's spending time with vamps. I heard through the grapevine that she likes girls now and that she's got a well-to-do girlfriend."

"Do you know anything about the girlfriend?"

"Nope, not a thing," Jason paused reconsidering. "Well, except her first name is like Sophia or something like that."

It was a thousand years practice at controlling his facial features that permitted Eric to keep his face expressionless at Jason's comment. _Well-to-do businesswoman in New Orleans named Sophia. Associating with vampires. Could the cousin be Sophie-Anne's human?_ Eric would have to call down to his contacts in New Orleans and find out if Sophie-Anne Le Clerq, the vampire queen of Louisiana, had a new pet.

"When was the last time you saw your sister?"

"A few months ago, maybe even more like five or six months ago. There was a party in Shreveport I went to and she was there. She spooked when she saw me and took off before I was able to go talk to her."

"Where was the party?"

"Well, it was at this guy Alcide's house. My buddy Tray invited a few of us from Merlotte's to go down there."

Eric nodded. "Alcide" must have been Alcide Herveaux, a Were. The girl seemed to enjoy the company of Weres. Maybe it was the otherness that she knew they shared. Perhaps there was some other reason.

"Was your sister there with anyone?"

"She held on to this other girl when she left. Short dark hair."

"That was the last time you saw her?"

Jason let out a breath. "Yep," he replied simply.

Eric, meanwhile, found himself angered by the man's cavalier attitude towards his sister. He could still recall a time when male family members took responsibility for their female relatives, ensuring members of the fairer sex were protected and taken care of financially.

"Did you _never_ ask Alcide if he knew where your sister was? Did you _never_ try to find out who her dark-haired companion was?"

"Uh, no, sir," Jason shook his head. Suddenly wary that he might have said something to upset his guest, he felt obliged to explain. "Sook's caused...a lot of grief. Gran gets so upset." The man let out a somewhat shaky breath. "I figured it was best to just let her be on her way. Not like you can force an addict to clean themselves up if they don't wanna."

Eric's cerulean blue eyes stared at Sookie's brother. According to what he knew to be the truth, this decidedly unremarkable being was of the Brigant line. Eric had, prior to that night, wondered why Niall hadn't just set the brother on the task of tracking down and retrieving the sister. Measuring the man who stood before him, the vampire now understood. There was no way this creature—part-fairy though he may be—would have been capable of bringing his sister home. Especially if, as it seemed to be the case, the girl had gotten herself caught up with the Were pack of Shreveport. They could be a rough crowd—especially if someone tried to take something away from them.

"Do you have any clue as to where your sister might be staying? Or what she might be doing for money?"

The man fixed his gaze blindly on a point past Eric's shoulder. Quiet, he reflected on the two questions before answering.

"I don't know where, or who, she's staying with. The dark-haired gal looked pretty and sweet. I hope she's taken to Sook and is lookin' out for her." Eric watched as the man turned his head once more meeting Eric's eyes. "I figure she's gotta be using her gift. I know if I...uh...could do what she can do, I'd try to make myself rich by goin' to the casinos. I don't know, though." Jason glanced downward before bringing his eyes back up to Eric's. "Sorry, uh." Observing Jason, it became apparent to Eric that he had forgotten his name. Struggling with his disdain, Eric found himself having to rein in a snicker. _A completely unremarkable creature_. But for his good looks, obvious sexual nature, and patented self-absorption, the brother's fairy traits would have been non-existent. "Guess that's all I got," Jason added lamely.

"Very well," Eric replied with a curt nod. "If you recall anything further—or encounter anyone who has additional information—here is my contact information." Eric held out a business card which Jason cautiously accepted.

"Yeah." Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

Turning, Eric quickly made his way down the porch steps and retraced the path along the driveway.

"Hey!" called Jason.

Stopping, Eric slowly swung around. He wryly observed that Jason had left the sanctuary of his vampire-free home and now stood outside on the porch.

"Good luck." Jason's voice choked on his words. "I...uh...didn't have much use for Sook when she was around—we weren't exactly close. But she, Gran, and Had are all I got. Gran ain't gonna be around forever and Hadley's got her own thing goin' on. I love Sook. I wanna chance to be a brother to her. I want her home for Gran's sake."

His words spent, Eric silently watched as realization dawned in Jason's eyes that not only had he left the safety of his home, but he was also confiding his hopes for the future to a vampire. Watching him, Eric was almost impressed the man didn't immediately run back into his house.

_Perhaps there is some Brigant in him after all_.

Nodding silently, Eric continued on his way back to his Corvette. Preparing to pull his car out of the driveway, he turned to glance one last time at the house. Jason still stood where he left him, slow tears tracking a path down his face.

Although it was not too late to visit Hair of the Dog, Eric decided he had subjected himself to enough interviews for the evening. He would return to Fangtasia and put calls in to his contacts in New Orleans. Perhaps, if Sophie-Anne did know the cousin, Hadley, retrieval of the girl could be expedited immediately with no more of these visits. Witnessing the pain these humans felt for the missing girl was starting to wear on him. While the pragmatism required for survival had long severed his capacity for true empathy, Eric could still be disturbed by stupidity, ignorance, and waste. The girl's gift obviously left her with a significant impairment, stuck as she was with the bottomfeeders of her small, close-minded community.

Cynically, Eric could almost give the girl credit. Born into a world in which she did not belong, she had embarked on a singular task of removing herself from her own existence.

_She's doing an excellent job, too…_

Existing in a world in which one did not belong was a feeling Eric—and any other pre-Revelation vampire—could relate to all too well.

Dismissing this parallel to his own early beginnings as the cause for his unexpected response to the Stackhouse girl's situation, Eric shrugged it off and settled in for his drive back to Shreveport.

Never one to ignore his instincts, Eric was momentarily struck by an undeniable sense that time was running out.

But it wasn't his time.

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**AN: Please R/R.**


	6. The Fourth Night

******Story Disclaimer**: Characters and setting belong to Charlaine Harris.

**AN: **Thank you for the reviews and alerts. Inspiration, not remake. Listen to the song. The beginning _is_ the ending.

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**The Fourth Night…**

The next night, Eric delayed leaving for the Were bar for several hours as he sought to reach his contact in New Orleans. Although impatient to get whatever information he could from the Weres, he was reluctant to tip them off to his search for the girl. Though he had no current conflict with the Long Tooth pack, the Were pack based in Shreveport, he still didn't trust them. They were filthy animals. Constantly at war with one another, they had a penchant for dragging others into the fray.

If the girl was, in fact, a friend of the pack, they no doubt knew what her mind was capable of. Eric could not imagine that they, aware of her gift, were not using it—_using her_—to their advantage. If they discovered that she, in fact, was not only part fae, but was of a royal bloodline, Eric would not put it past the pack to employ some means to further exploit the girl's situation to their own benefit.

Ceasing his ruminations, Eric took out his phone and tried once more to reach his contact in New Orleans. It was his sixth such attempt since the prior night. Meeting with voicemail, he refrained from leaving yet another message.

Frustrated, he decided to not put off his visit to the Were bar any longer. Ignoring the throngs of tourists and fangbangers seeking his favor, Eric made his way to Pam who sat alone at their usual booth. He settled himself on the booth bench to her left.

"Is it the witching hour, Eric?" Pam, adorned in black lace, was her usual petulant self. She disliked floor duty and wasn't bashful about letting it be known. Which, ironically, was quite good for business.

Sardonically grinning at his child, Eric replied. "It's time for me to go to the Were bar, if that's what you're referring to."

"You know what I'm referring to," Pam turned her gaze away from Eric back out to the club floor. "What will you do if you find her? Have you considered that?"

Falling silent, Eric pondered the question. Thus far, his time had been spent on discovering clues to the Stackhouse girl's whereabouts; the idea of actually _finding_ the girl still seemed a remote possibility.

"Considering the lifestyle the girl has led, I think it highly unlikely I shall find her the first night I search," Eric looked at Pam as he spoke.

Pam shrugged and resumed her perusal of the dance floor. "You're the one who always advises me to be prepared."

With a start of surprise, Eric felt his eyebrow lift reflexively. Pam was right. However unlikely he regarded the prospect of finding her, he still ought to have a plan. "I can glamour her and leave her here." He left out the part about binding and tying up the girl.

"Yes, Eric," Pam nodded. "I was just thinking we needed a few more drug-addicts for the bar. They'll go well with the new sconces I ordered," she said sarcastically.

Eric let out an irritated sigh. "Fine then. I'll just bring her back to my house."

Pam's head shot around to look at her maker. "What? You can't be serious! You can't have her with you when you're at rest—"

"Pam, my room deadbolts. Not to mention the fact that I can glamour her so that she will sleep until sunset. For that matter, I have other rooms with deadbolts," he paused meaningfully. "She would be _secured_."

"No, Eric," Pam shook her head. "I don't like this. She's an addict. She's probably accustomed to scrounging like an animal. To acting out of desperation. Besides, what if you take her and she goes into withdrawal? You can glamour her mind but you can't prevent her body from turning on itself."

Pam had a point. If he were able to secure her tonight, he'd have to make sure she was physically well. Deep in thought, he drummed his fingertips on the top of the table. Realizing the solution to his dilemma, he turned a wry smile to his child.

"I could always feed her my blood."

Pam had been watching the tedious throng of humans on the dance floor. Eric's words caused her to, once more, swing her head around to face him.

"What? Are you serious? You want a tie to a drug-addicted fairy-human half-breed?"

Eric winced at Pam's words. "Pam, I need to just take care of this."

"But why, Eric? Why? Because she's a telepath?"

"Because I owe the fairy a favor—"

"Yes, but you don't owe him your life, which is what you're risking by entangling yourself too deeply in this girl's troubles." Pam paused. She was finding her maker's attitude on the matter somewhat out of character. Vampires didn't share blood normally with humans. It certainly wasn't done with strangers. "I don't understand why you're so vested in—"

"Pam, I owe Niall."

"Let me finish." At his curt nod, Pam picked up where she left off. "You told Niall you'd find her. I don't understand why you're so vested in saving her. She's not your responsibility. Favor to Niall be damned."

Hearing his child's assessment, Eric couldn't help but smile. He often heard himself when he heard her. He knew that Pam was repeating views she had heard him express numerous times over the centuries. She was right; he knew that. He also knew that it didn't change anything. His intentions were still to do what he had to —not only to retrieve the girl, but to save the girl as well. Having made up his mind two nights prior, his determination had not waivered. He did, however, devise a way to placate his child.

"I will call Dr. Ludwig and warn her that I may have a patient she will need to take in."

Pam nodded. "So you won't give the girl blood?"

"Pam, I'll do whatever is necessary."

Pouting, Pam responded with a sullen,"fine."

~~~ooOoo~~

Although Hair of the Dog had a parking lot, Eric recalled it as being dark, pitted, and strewn with litter. _Even their pavement is wild_ _and unkempt_, he snickered. Preferring not to subject his Corvette to the lot's uneven surface, the vampire opted to just park his car along the curb in front of the bar's old brick storefront.

Reaching the bar entrance, Eric immediately noticed that the building had been warded to keep unwanted visitors away. It didn't affect him, nor would it affect any other supernatural creature. But a human, presumably even one with a trace of fairy blood, would find it impossible to tolerate.

Pushing open the door, Eric made his way inside. Not having been to the bar in several years, his eyes darted around the interior, taking a quick appraisal. A dive, the bar's owners had done little to invest in the place. The large storefront windows were covered with opaque cream curtains. Dim lighting masked the interior's dinginess. An old jukebox playing "Bad Moon Rising" nearly elicited a laugh from Eric. It never failed to amuse him how Weres, for all their posturing, were extraordinarily predictable.

Acquainted with several of the weres and shifters, Eric was not surprised when no verbal greetings came forth. The bartender, a biker with a beard, a thatch of long hair and tattoos covering his arms, nodded a silent acknowledgment to which Eric responded in kind.

Without preamble, Eric walked to a rear booth where Alcide Herveaux sat with a red-haired Were Eric identified as Amanda. Alcide and Amanda were both high in the ranks of the Shreveport pack.

At Eric's approach, the two Weres ceased their conversation and turned to look at the vampire.

"Eric Northman," Alcide nodded and gestured for Amanda to leave.

"Alcide, Amanda." Eric returned the nod. Seeing Amanda maneuvering to get out of the booth, Eric stopped her. "No, Amanda. Stay."

As Eric pulled a chair from an adjacent table and sat himself across the table from the Weres', Alcide and Amanda exchanged a bewildered glance.

"I see you're both confused at my visit," Eric started. "Rest assured, there is nothing amiss," Eric paused. "As the Area Sheriff, I have been tasked to find someone." Dipping a hand into his inner lining pocket, he extracted a copy of the photograph of Sookie Stackhouse. The original was safely locked up his office in Fangtasia. He had carefully clipped the extraneous individuals from the picture. The waitress was not worthy of notice, while the cousin may have proved too worthy of notice. "This girl."

As Eric slid the photograph across the table, he was careful to watch the Weres for any visible reaction. His effort did not go unrewarded. Both Weres apparently knew the girl. Both Weres were also so startled by that fact, that they failed to mask their surprise. Alcide winced while Amanda pursed her lips.

"You know her." Eric observed. It wasn't a question.

"Yes." Alcide replied. Eric noticed Alcide silently communicate to Amanda that he would field Eric's questions.

"Do either of you know where I might find her?" Although Eric was careful to keep his eyes on the Weres while he spoke, this time it did him little good; both maintained blank expressions. Neither of them said anything for a few long seconds until finally Alcide spoke.

"She's not here," he said simply.

Eric, already aggravated by the difficulties encountered in his investigation—principally the lack of response from the New Orleans vampires—felt like draining the Were on the spot for his deliberate reticence. Pushing away from the table, Eric, still seated, stretched out to his full imposing length. He and the Were were equally matched physically, but for the fact that Eric was immortal and Alcide was all too mortal.

"Alcide, the Long Tooth pack resides in my Area. As vampires have made themselves known, my position is quite established." He spit out his words through a clenched jaw. "You," he paused and then glanced away briefly, seeming to consider his words. Refocusing on Alcide, his blue eyes locked onto the Were's. "You, however, still exist under a cover of secrecy. Problems could...arise...for you. My patience in this matter has already been tested." Leaning forward again, Eric bared his fangs. "_Do. Not. Test. Me. Further."_

While the vampire hadn't elaborated on the "problems" that could arise for the Were pack, he didn't really need to. If vampires wanted to cause you problems, you had problems.

Alcide met Eric's stare with a grim smile. "Wouldn't dream of it, Eric." Alcide let out a breath. "First, tell me what you want with her."

"I have been tasked to find her. That is all you need to know."

"Who has you looking for her?"

"It's a relative of the girl's."

Nearly imperceptibly, Alcide's eyes rolled to Amanda. Eric again noticed a silent communication pass between them.

"What _is_ she?" asked Alcide.

_Ah, so the weres don't know, but they suspect_. "What do you mean?" Two can play obtuse.

"She's not fully human. We know that," explained Alcide.

"I think she's fairy." Amanda unwisely opened her mouth.

Growling, Eric eliminated the distance between himself and the female Were in less than a second.

"_Forget your suspicions or I shall ensure you forget_," he hissed.

"Hold on, Eric." Alcide, leaning forward, put himself between Eric and Amanda. "I don't know what Sookie is to whoever has you looking for her, but she's a friend of the pack. We have no cause to do her harm. "

Pleased Alcide was finally feeling communicative, Eric retracted his fangs and sat back in his chair.

"Tell me more," he requested.

"She is friends with a few of the pack members. They work with her at the El Dorado."

"You said she was a friend of the pack. What else?"

Alcide ran his fingers through his hair. "She helps us out sometimes."

"Her telepathy?"

Alcide squinted his eyes. Obviously he was not altogether pleased Eric knew this bit of information about the girl. Or, more specifically, he wasn't pleased that Eric knew that the Long Tooth pack had been organizing with the aid of a telepath.

"Yeah," Alcide nodded.

"How?"

"She helps us to find stuff out; stuff that's good to know." Anxious to get off the topic, Alcide's next words redirected the conversation. "She's also a real sweet girl. She's special."

"She doesn't show fear." Amanda felt the need to announce this like it were a threat.

_Were-bitch, I am not the one using her, _he thought. All of a sudden, Eric found himself once again feeling impatient. He ought to be finding the girl instead of wasting precious moments with these loathsome Weres.

"Where is she?" Eric gave them both a fangy smile. "Do not make me ask again."

"She works at the El Dorado. She lives with two female pack members, Maria Star and Culpepper."

Eric nodded pleasantly as if to say, 'See? Was that so hard?" "Maria-Starr and Culpepper. Are they addicts?"

"Hell, no!" Amanda retorted hotly, her voice full of venom, before Alcide had an opportunity to rein her in

"No, Eric," Alcide shook his head sadly. "Whoever she gets her junk from, it's not anyone in the pack."

"Gotta be from someone at the El Dorado," Amanda shrugged. "Maria and Culpepper do their best to keep an eye on her."

"Where's does she live? Would she be there now?"

Alcide sighed. "Jefferson Arms Apartments, 907 Louisiana Avenue, 4D."

Eric was out of his chair before Alcide finished saying the address. Turning, he started to walk out when Amanda's voice stopped him.

"She won't be there. Not now." Stopping, Eric turned to fix them with an expectant look. "She's at Disneyland. A group of them were going there tonight."

Disneyland was the supe club in Bossier City. While Fangtasia was the tourist club, Disneyland was the real deal. Disneyland was not its real name, though even Eric didn't know its real name. Nodding at the two Weres, Eric took his leave.

~~~ooOoo~~~

A short while later, Eric arrived at Disneyland. Again he noted strong stay-away magic on the outside of the club. He wondered again how the girl had gotten past the magic. Prepared to pay the cover, he was waved through the door by an Area Five vampire, Tomas.

"Sheriff," nodded Tomas.

Nodding in response, Eric hesitated briefly before taking out the photograph and showing it to his underling. "Is she here tonight?"

Tomas studied the picture and then, glancing up at Eric, nodded. He pointed towards a far corner of the club.

Eric silently nodded his thanks to Tomas and entered the club.

Loud retro disco music filled the club. Blue ceiling lights cast an otherworldly glow throughout the cavernous space. Eric strode to the bar and ordered a True Blood. He had been focused so completely on finding her, and now that he had found her, he had little idea of how to approach her. He had originally intended on using glamour to ensure her acquiescence, but he was now contemplating the possibility that the girl was, in fact, a magical null. How else to explain her ability to get past the magical wards?

Downing his drink, Eric made his way toward the darkened corner Tomas had indicated. Approaching the section slowly, Eric's eyes immediately settled upon a booth housing a small group. Eric identified most of the individuals at the table as being either a Were or a shifter.

_Most_ but for one.

There.

Unable to see her face—as her gaze was directed elsewhere—the girl's unmistakable blond tresses belied her identity.

Eric smiled.

_Gotcha_, he thought.

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**AN: _Please_ review. This is new territory for me.**


	7. Sookie

**Story Disclaimer**: Characters and setting belong to Charlaine Harris.

**AN**: Thank you for the reviews and alerts. Sorry I am a little off schedule. Not an easy story to write.

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**Sookie**

Eric positioned himself along a darkened wall not far from Sookie's booth. Shelves supporting extra speakers and sound equipment lined the wall. Since there were no tables near the wall—and no patrons getting up to dance or visit the bar—Eric was permitted an excellent, unobstructed view of his bounty. Leaning his tall frame against the wall, he wasted no time in taking advantage of his prime location.

Observing Sookie, Eric was quick to note that she was truly beautiful. The photographs—while they had not lied, they had also failed to do her justice. The blue lights—which bestowed a death pall upon some not unlike a vampire's glow—served only to cast upon her an ethereal luminescence. He saw that she wore her long hair loose, allowing it to fall past her shoulders. He noted her nervous habit of periodically tucking the hair behind her ears. Swaying with the music as she sat, she stopped occasionally to whisper to her girlfriend seated at her left, a Were with short dark hair. Eric figured that must be the friend her brother had seen her with at Alcide's house.

Turning his attention to the group, he noticed their repeated attempts to speak, only to stop when the loud bass-dominated music made it uncomfortable. Hearing what they said when they did manage to speak, Eric discerned that the other two females at the table, both Weres, were Maria-Starr, the one with short dark hair, and Culpepper, with longer light-colored hair. The males included a Were named Sid, a shifter named Tommy and another shifter whose name remained unstated. It seemed most of them worked together at the casino at the El Dorado. Recalling the words of Sookie's brother, Eric wondered if she did, in fact, use her telepathy to cheat the casinos. That could be a dangerous game. Half the casinos were supe-owned, while organized crime syndicates owned the other half.

As he watched the group, Eric hatched out a plan to secure the girl. First and foremost, Eric did not wish to agitate her companions. While he was not concerned about his ability to subdue a handful of young Weres and shifters, there were actually dozens of supes in the club, including several of his Area vampires. Even if the vampires could overpower the Weres and shifters, and leave them cowering, he didn't want to do this. He refused to incite a supe melee involving dozens at a publicly accessible location where police and ambulances would be called.

Eric could only imagine Pam's reaction if he, the Area Sheriff, were to spark a supernatural skirmish in Area Five on account of a part-fairy drug addict. His child would hold it over his head for centuries.

Eric's plan was to wait for the girl to get up and then approach her once she was alone. He figured she would leave the booth at some point to use the restroom. Acquainted with the layout of the club, he knew the nearest restrooms were located down a hallway not far from their booth. Although he knew female humans typically went as a group to the restroom, he assumed the two Weres—not approving of their friend's habit—would just as soon allow the fairy privacy on her visits.

Once he'd cornered the girl in the restroom, Eric intended on using glamour to force her acquiescence. His plan was then to bring her outside—there was an emergency exit at the end of the hallway—and spirit her away to Dr. Ludwig's. Despite initial reluctance, Dr. Ludwig was amenable to detoxing a part-fairy, at least a part-fairy of the Brigant line.

A question that remained unresolved was whether or not he would feed her his blood. Despite his own misgivings—Pam was right, it _wasn't_ typically done—as well as his child's outright disapproval, Eric still felt there were good reasons to feed her his blood.

One, he understood that detox from addictions—especially a drug such as heroin—could cause symptoms of illness or real illness. Eric had researched heroin addiction while waiting for his New Orleans contact to return his call. As it was a strong depressant, it made sense that the girl used it to dull her senses. It was also unique in that its use, ultimately, permanently alters one's brain. Wryly, he thought this was, perhaps, why she chose it.

Second, he would be able to track her. He had no doubts about Dr. Ludwig's healing skills; he did, however, question her ability to secure the girl. He had actually advised the healer that restraints might be appropriate but the doctor had dismissed the idea—as being "archaic."

Finally Eric's opportunity came. First the short-haired Were—_Maria-Starr_—stood up from the booth. Then Sookie got up. He noted that despite the warmth inside the club she wore long sleeves. She also carried an over-sized bag. With a casual backward glance and smile to her friends, she made her way toward the rear corridor that led to the ladies room.

Eric looked away as she passed him. He did not wish for her to see him just yet.

Hesitating briefly before following her, Eric listened to the girl's companions.

"She goin' to shoot up?" Tommy was asking this of Maria-Starr and Culpepper.

"Yeah. She went to go meet someone before we came." It was Culpepper who responded.

"We gotta do something. Maybe the colonel—" This was Maria-Starr speaking to Culpepper and the male Were, the one named Sid.

"She's not a Were." Sid replied.

"But she _is_ a friend of the pack. Besides…" the girl paused, "it's important to him—to the pack—that she's…_you know_… coherent. Healthy. Alive."

Throwing a surreptitious glance at the table, Eric realized that this _was_ his opportunity and he needed to act. He abruptly made his way down the hallway that led to the restrooms.

Halfway down the hall he felt a buzzing in his pocket. It was his cell phone. He ignored the ring but was soon alerted to a text message. Taking out his phone, he glanced at the screen. Pam. Flipping it open, his nostrils flared in anger when he read his child's text.

**Andre returned your call. Said they've been 'busy.' No other info.**

_Too busy to return an urgent call from one of their sheriffs? _ That didn't sound right. They even failed to answer his questions. That only reinforced Eric's suspicion that there was something going on that he was not aware of. Walking past the ladies room, he positioned himself by the emergency exit while keeping his eyes peeled on the ladies room door. He hit Pam's number.

"Pam, what did Andre say? Why did _he_ return the call and not Rasul?"

_Eric, I told you what he said. Nothing. _

"Why did he bother even to return the call?"

_He wanted to question you. He wants to know why you're interested in Hadley Delahoussaye._

_Unbelievable_. "Pam, let me make sure I understand this: Andre insists _they_ have no connection to the woman, yet want to know why it is _I_ seek her?"

_I knew you'd like that. _

Eric snorted. "_Like_ is not the word, Pam…"

_So, I assume you'll be heading down to Area One?_

Eric hesitated. "I've found her, Pam. Once I've delivered her to Dr. Ludwig, there should be time for me to get to Area One."

_Do you want me to let Andre know you'll be visiting with him shortly?_

Eric let out another snort. He knew she was joking. At least he was fairly certain she was joking. "Pam?"

_Of course, I was not serious. _

"Of course."

After terminating the call, Eric doubled back down the hallway. Once outside the ladies room, he hesitated at the door. Listening, he heard only one heartbeat. She was alone. He opened the door and walked in. Glancing under the stall door, he saw her jean clad legs as she sat. He could smell her broken flesh where the needle had entered her vein. Spying a yellow 'Caution' floor sign stored inside a bucket in the corner, Eric, opening the door, set the sign down on the floor outside the ladies' room. Then, without hesitation, he yanked on the stall door. It easily came away from its hinges. He set it down on the floor.

Startled, Sookie looked up at him with a lost look. He noted her pupils were dilated.

"Who...?" Her breath came out in shallow spurts.

"Sookie." He crouched down so that his eyes were level to hers. He pushed the hair away from her face. He noted beads of sweat on her forehead.

Confused, she frowned. "How do you know my name?"

Frowning in distaste, he lifted the girl's right hand, the one still holding the needle, away from her arm. He took the needle and laid it down on the paper dispenser. "I mean you no harm. Your grandmother wants very much to see you."

"Gran? You know my Gran? Who are you?" Looking around, she appeared disoriented. "Where am I? Where's Maria?"

"She is not here. I am here. I am not going to hurt you, Sookie. I am here to help you. I am bringing you home to Adele. She wants to see you. Jason wants to see you. Tara misses you."

Eric leaned his head forward, close to hers. Holding her chin with his right hand, he sought to capture her eyes with his own and impose his will on her. Silently, she stared blankly at him.

"I am not here to harm you, Sookie. Only to help. I am going to bring you home to those who care about you. Come with me and I will help you. You have nothing to fear of me."

Eric kept his tone even, pleasant, calm. The girl seemed to respond and relax. Then, with a hand solidly grasping each of her wrists, he helped her to her feet.

Dropping his hand from her left wrist, he grabbed her bag from the floor and, his right hand securely holding her elbow, led her out into the hallway. Once there, the girl's next action made it clear that her docile compliance had been an act: she had only pretended to be glamoured to escape the confines of the ladies room. With a surprising force, Sookie stabbed the needle she had lifted from the paper dispenser into Eric's cheek. With a harsh yank, she tore a jagged inch-long path down his cheek. Startled, and in pain, Eric let out a growl and dropped his hold of her.

Since Eric's large frame occupied the hallway, blocking her way back into the club, Sookie had no choice but to escape via the emergency exit. As she ran for the back door, a plaintive, "_Maria_!" echoed under the sounds of the music.

Recovering quickly from both his surprise at her failure to be glamoured and the sharp pain she inflicted with the needle, Eric trailed close behind her to the emergency exit.

Pushing open the back door, Eric immediately encountered an obstruction. Looking down, he saw an unconscious Sookie lying in a heap on the broken pavement. Nudging the door forward gently, Eric managed to squeeze through the narrow opening. Kneeling at the girl's side, Eric, pushing hair from her forehead, saw she had a nasty gash where her head hit the pavement. Breathing in the aroma if her blood, he felt his fangs descend and his body respond. Licking her, he closed his eyes, tasting her essence.

Rolling her over, he sat down on the pavement and settled the girl against him, leaning against chest. Opening her lips, he then bit down on his wrist and held the open wound above her waiting mouth. Watching her throat as she swallowed his blood, he groaned.

With the healing properties of his blood dispersing quickly throughout her body, Sookie's eyes soon opened and the gash on her head began to heal.

"Who are you?" she whispered. Her fear was palpable.

"I'm not here to harm you. I'm here to help you," he repeated in a subdued tone.

"No…no…" she moaned. "You're a vampire and you're here to take me, aren't you?" Her voice was quivering, defeated. "You're the one, aren't you? Hadley said she was sending someone to get me." The girl started to sob. Turning, she buried her face in his chest. He could still make out her muffled words. "I don't want to go. I want to stay here. Please make the queen understand. Please help me. Please…" Perceiving a threat more dangerous than the vampire whose arms now held her, whose hand now caressed her, Sookie's small, torn arms wrapped around him. Despite her fear of him, despite the fact that only moments earlier she had fled to escape him, she now held onto him for dear life.

Hearing her tiny voice, broken and wracked by tears, her words pierced him. Her words, her words…

_You're the one, aren't you? _

_Hadley said she was sending someone to get me__…_

_Please make the queen understand__…_

The girl's words solidified Eric's suspicions regarding the queen and the delays and games emanating from New Orleans. The cousin Hadley _did_ know the queen and Eric, from Sookie's own words, could only deduce that the queen knew about the girl's telepathy and was determined to secure her for her own use.

"I don't want to go," she cried. "Please! Please! I don't want to go!"

Without warning, Eric felt a white-hot pain in the back of his shoulder. Then another. And another. Silver bullets pierced his skin, boring their way into his flesh. Suddenly the girl was being taken from him. The Weres.

"Come on, Sookie." The nameless shifter and the Were Culpepper were pulling her away.

A car abruptly pulled into the parking lot. Her friends lifted the girl and shoved her into the vehicle. Injured by the bullets that invaded his flesh, Eric watched from where he lay on the ground as the car took off. As the last bullet finally pushed itself out of his body, Eric collected himself and stood.

Noting that the bullets were out of his body and that he—by all counts—ought to feel well, Eric was surprised to feel a wave of pain ebb through him. Startled, he quickly recognized it for what it was: her pain. It had been many years since Eric had given his blood to a human. Feeling emotional pain so raw it registered as physical pain was an unfamiliar sensation to him. It continued to echo inside him long after the car had disappeared from view.

Wandering to the edge of the parking lot, Eric looked in the direction the car had gone. He sensed that they had reached their destination by now—likely a residence. Possibly the apartment shared by the three girls. They knew he would not be able to get to her as long as they didn't invite him in.

With several hours yet remaining, Eric weighed his options. Her friends would not let him near her anymore this night. While that was unfortunate, he had managed to give her blood, so he would be able to track her easily the next night. Given that, he decided he would continue with his plan to go to New Orleans. He wanted answers. That decision made, he took to the sky.

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**AN: **I really would appreciate feedback on this. The only reason I delved into fanfic was to write humorous pieces. Positive feedback on **The Weight** sparked a curiosity about writing other serious tales. After spending hours on Sunday watching **Requiem for a Dream** and clips of addicts shooting up on **YouTube**, I am looking forward to getting back to **The Dead Man**.


	8. The Fifth Night

**Story Disclaimer: **Characters and setting belong to Charlaine Harris**.**

**AN: **Thank you for the reviews and alerts. Don't hate me. I write plenty of HEAs. This is just not one of them.

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**The Fifth Night**

Upon waking the next night in New Orleans, Eric felt a stirring within him. He knew he needed to get back to Shreveport and he knew he needed to get back there quickly. Having discussed everything there was to discuss—_that is, everything he was willing to discuss_—with the queen the night before, Eric's plan was to depart from the palace immediately upon sunset or soon thereafter.

With his unannounced visit to the royal palace, Eric had finally been able to secure an audience with the queen. Decidedly less than pleased to see him, Sophie-Anne's lips pursed at the sight of him. She hadn't hesitated to comment on his surprise visit.

"I forget you'd just as soon fly as pick up the phone, Eric."

Ever capable of pulling out the charm when required, Eric volleyed without missing a beat. "It does allow me a welcome opportunity to see you, Your Majesty."

"Yes, thank you." She gestured for him to sit. "I apologize for what must seem like a lack of responsiveness on our part."

"I merely assumed it was a significant matter you deemed not appropriate for the telephone."

"Perhaps," she replied noncommittally. Sophie-Anne gestured to a woman with short dark hair seated across from her on a loveseat. "This is my pet, Hadley Delahoussaye. I believe you have heard of her?" Sophie-Anne quirked her head to one side as she fixed her stare on Eric.

Eric looked at the girl. He recognized her immediately from the photograph. He felt a surge of rage within him. Not only did this girl foster her cousin's drug addiction, but, as if that were not enough, then she'd betrayed the girl. It was with some measure of satisfaction, he detected a glimmer of fear on her face. She feared what he would say. She feared he would reveal her duplicity to the queen.

_Good_, he thought. _She should be afraid. She should live every day in fear, so that she knows what fate she delivered upon her kin._

"All I know, Your Majesty, is hearsay. A girl I met at a bar merely asked me if I knew Ms. Delahoussaye."

"What girl?"

"It was Ms. Delahoussaye's cousin. Sookie Stackhouse."

"Oh." Sophie-Anne's eyes shot to Hadley. "Why did she ask you that?"

Eric shrugged. "Well, she knew her cousin associated with vampires and I believe she was just…ah…_flirting_." He smiled at his own mendaciousness.

"Oh," Sophie-Anne nodded. "That's interesting. We actually have plans for Ms. Stackhouse." She turned to her pet. "Don't we, Hadley?" she smiled.

"Oh?" Eric kept his face immobile. "Anything of interest to the _Area Sheriff_?" Eric decided it was better that Sophie-Anne believe he felt slighted, rather than think he knew more than he was letting on.

"Well," Sophie-Anne nodded. "Now that you mention it, I suppose I can tell you…"

As the queen finally opened up to him about her plans for the telepath, Eric found himself feeling disgust and admiration in equal measures.

Hadley had been the queen's pet for the last six months. Reading between the lines, Eric concluded the girl—in an effort to seek favor with Sophie-Anne—had told the queen all about the Stackhouse girl's telepathy. Being anything and everything other than a fool, the queen decided she wanted the Stackhouse girl for her use. So between Hadley, Andre, and herself, they had cooked up a scheme to ensnare Sookie in the royal web. A former native to the girls' hometown of Bon Temps, Bill Compton, was to relocate to Area Five to "secure" the girl for the queen.

"Eric, you can see how it's more important that I have her? That she be on the royal retinue? That her services _not_ be limited just to Area Five?"

"Yes, of course," he nodded. "How is Bill Compton to secure the girl?" Eric had no idea what her delightful cousin had told Sookie, but it was obvious the girl was terrified.

Sophie-Anne imperiously waved a hand. "With whatever means necessary, of course. He is a faithful servant."

Although he masked it with indifference, Eric found himself quietly seething that this plot had been unfolding in his own area without his knowledge. Perhaps something of his bitterness was evident to the queen. She seemed to want to make a show of attempting to placate him.

"Eric, since you are okay with it, perhaps you want to be the one to secure her services for the queendom? I considered asking you but I was concerned you might be tempted to be ungenerous—once you knew you had a telepath in your area. Of course, ultimately the girl must relocate to Area One to be near me, so it would require you give up your post as Sheriff…?"

_Cunt_. "I am quite happy with my position as Area Five Sheriff, Your Majesty. I do not regard playing keeper to a telepath as a service I need to perform."

"Very well, then." She smiled. "I do hate playing favorites and I do already have the matter settled with Mr. Compton."

Biting his tongue until he tasted blood, Eric found himself wishing for the future day of reckoning. Upon that day, he would take no small measure of consolation in Hadley's duplicity being made known to the queen. Eric hoped Sophie-Anne would assign her child Andre the task of punishing Hadley for her betrayal. Andre, Eric knew, had a particular creative streak when it came to cruel punishments. He hoped, also, that Sophie-Anne felt grief at Hadley's betrayal. But he recognized that wish was likely in vain; a vampire as old as Sophie-Anne, indeed, as old as himself, survived largely due to instinct and the willed dormancy of emotions.

For all his sworn fealty to Sophie-Anne, Eric didn't particularly give a damn that her own pet had betrayed her. In fact, if anything, he found that aspect of the whole sordid web of machinations amusing.

Eric found himself looking forward to his return to Fangtasia so that he could share this story with Pam. She would definitely see the humor in it.

That was the conversation Eric had with the queen his first night at the palace.

The second night at the palace, Eric ran into only a few minor Sophie-Anne-related delays. As soon as Eric was able to extricate himself, he took his leave.

With the new knowledge that there had been a conspiracy in place against the girl all along, Eric found himself still feeling a sense of responsibility to see the matter through to the end. His plan—despite the unsettling revelations—remained essentially unchanged. He wanted to get Sookie to Dr. Ludwig's and then, once she was healthy, restore her to her grandmother.

Eric knew he would have to contact Niall immediately—as soon as he could after settling Sookie at Dr. Ludwig's—and tell the fairy about the queen's plot to acquire the girl for her retinue. It was not clear to Eric whether or not Sophie-Anne—or, for that matter, Hadley—were aware of the fairy bloodline. Eric hadn't a clue as to Niall's predispositions regarding his other great-grandchildren but he appeared to favor Sookie. This was good as the fairy would likely have to negotiate with Sophie-Anne to ensure the girl's continued freedom.

_Of course, I have to call the Were and make sure he calls off his dogs this time, _he sardonically reminded himself.

What if Sophie-Anne were unwilling to live without her desired toy? Niall was extremely wealthy. He could make things happen if he needed to. Perhaps it would be better for the girl to live outside Louisiana. Since she seemed inconsolable at the idea of leaving northern Louisiana, Eric imagined her reaction to leaving Louisiana altogether would be considerably worse. But if she valued her freedom, certainly she would agree to whatever was necessary, would she not? She would do whatever was necessary to remain in control of her own life, would she not?

About midway into his flight, Eric was disturbed by another slight tremor in his blood. Something was wrong. He could feel that something was very wrong with her. Not normally one to expend time or energy on things beyond his control, Eric found himself pointlessly wishing he could increase his pace.

The flight somehow seemed longer to him.

It seemed too long.

As the vampire closed the distance between himself and Shreveport, he noted that he could feel the telepath's agitation more acutely. More of the same ebbing and flowing waves of pain he had felt after giving her his blood. A sense of urgency accompanied him on his final leg of the journey. It was with great relief he saw the familiar landmarks announcing his arrival back in Area Five.

Calling to his blood, he was easily able to track the girl's location. A few minutes into Shreveport, he found himself unceremoniously landing on a blighted street in the city's downtown area. Eric noted with disgust a dilapidated structure falling into ruin as well as a freight train thundering past to his left. To his right was an unkempt park, overgrown with weeds and the vermin that prowl such unattended areas. Behind him, there were only parked cars and an elevated highway in the distance.

Looking up at the one building in this bleak landscape, he knew it had to be Sookie's apartment building. She was here. He had to get to her.

Pushing experimentally on the front door, he discovered it was unlocked. A public, non-domicile vestibule, Eric was able to enter the building. Hearing a scream followed by loud wracking sobs, he wasted no time in running up the stairwell.

Nearly flying, he used vamp speed to make his way up the three flights. As he went up, his senses took note of random details.

Cracks in the walls and ceiling belied the building's age; well past its prime, it ought to have been torn down years ago.

A number of foul stenches permeated the air, carpet, and walls, seemingly fighting for dominance.

A cacophony characterized the bedlam of the building, as humans shouting competed with loud music and televisions.

Finally—

Arriving at the fourth floor landing, he sees the source of the strangled sobs that could be heard from downstairs. A female Were with short dark hair and a swollen, tear-streaked face. Eric immediately identifies the girl as the roommate from the previous night, Maria-Starr. Her eyes open wide when she sees him, and she slinks away from him, pushing herself as far into the wall as possible.

As Eric walks to the open apartment door, all the noise, the smells, the throbbing vibrations fall away.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

So faint, so failing. Only he can hear it.

The dark-haired girl, gasping for breath, makes a move to pass him. He stops her.

"I can help her. Invite me in," he commands her. Unable to see past her tears, she mumbles, "You can come in." She squeezes past him and darts down the stairs. He turns briefly to watch her as she runs away.

Taking a step inside the small apartment's hallway, he is immediately hit with the smell.

Death.

Making his way into the living room, he sees her. She is lying on a stain-covered mattress in a corner of the room.

Silence. The low, yet comforting thumping of a moment ago now stilled.

Behind him, neighbors, alerted by Maria-Starr's screaming, arrive to observe the excitement of the day. Dismissing their disgusting display, Eric regards their intrusion upon the scene like so many vultures descending to enjoy the tearing apart of flesh. Ignoring them, Eric only has eyes for the girl.

Covering the distance between them, he gathers her small broken form in his arms and sits with her on the sofa. Although he detected a spark of life when he stood at the door, now there is nothing. The girl herself confirms his diagnosis, her blue eyes staring unseeing into his own.

Looking at her, he takes note of what wasn't revealed in the small snapshot stolen from the wall of the shifter's bar. The color of her hair is not just blonde, but a shade that nearly matches his own. The now vacant eyes are blue, but not just any blue, a radiant blue. The lovely contours of her body that lead one to smoothness, softness, and bounty. Most of all, he imprints in his memory the smell of her sun-kissed flesh; a sun-kissed flesh that reflects tales of the sun and the daytime sky.

A vampire, all Eric knows is death. All he has known for a thousand years is death. But this is different. This death wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to prevent this. He had failed. He had failed Niall's request. He had failed the girl.

He couldn't quite say how but he knew too, without question, that he had failed himself.

Angry with himself for his failure, Eric rises to his feet once more, the girl's lifeless body still in his arms. Carrying her back to her bed, he replaces her to her final rest. With a softly murmured Old Norse prayer, he closes her eyes.

Standing once more he begins to consider the tasks that lie before him.

He must explain to Niall how his great-granddaughter died.

He must similarly explain to Adele Stackhouse. It is with displeasure he regards this task.

Sophie-Anne? Sophie-Anne, he reasons, has no cause to think him any more involved than he'd represented. As her spy, the vampire Compton, was not yet relocated to Area Five, Eric sees no need for him to further explain his actions. As for the girl's overdose...the queen knows what the girl was.

Opening a window, Eric climbs out onto the fire escape. Pulling out his cell phone, he hits the button for Pam. Hearing her answer, without preamble, he speaks.

"The telepath is dead."

_Hmm. Far be it for me to say I told you so_—

"Pam. Please." She can be trying at times, but she knows when to restrain herself. She falls silent.

_Of course. Niall called. He wanted a progress report._

"What did you tell him?"

_Only that you were in New Orleans on a related matter and that you'd explain when you returned._

"Good."

_Are you…Do we have problems?_

Eric snorts in response. _Always_. "There's always problems, Pam. If you mean in regards to the queen and the telepath, I think not. I'll explain when I see you."

_Are you coming in?_

_Was he? Yes. _"Yes, I'll be there shortly. " He pauses, considering. "Has Ginger left?"

_No. She's still here. Shall I tell her to wait for you?_

_Did he want that?_ "Yes."

Shutting his cell phone, Eric tucks it back inside his jacket pocket. Taking a final glance inside the apartment, he then takes flight into the dark summer sky.

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**AN**: Thank you for reading. I've been so focused on the updates that I haven't responded to many comments. I'll do a Response to Comments for this chapter, so if anyone has questions or points they'd like clarified, (or any "oopsies" they'd like to point out to me) please don't be shy. Please let me know if your questions are rhetorical or if you really want to pick my mental "backstory."

**FYI**: This was originally written as a one-shot that I decided to post instead as a MC. Personally, I find one-shots are not the best medium for in-depth stories. Once I decided to do it as a MC, I wondered also if Marshall McLuhan didn't have a point with "medium is the message." My intent was to write a suspenseful story. It seemed a no-brainer that posting it as a MC would build suspense, whereas posting it as a one-shot would not. Posting it as a MC also resulted in a better story as I realized how anemic the original version was due to my need to adhere to a word limit. Yeah, I know this AN has nothing to do with the story, but I'd welcome anyone's thoughts about it just the same.


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